I was born at the tail end of the boomer generation. My family consisted of my parents and two older brothers and an older sister. Then there was me. The closest in age to me was my sister and she had four years on me. Because of the difference in ages between me and my siblings I spent a lot of time alone -- especially after my sister hit puberty and started dating.
One summer day when my parents and brothers were at work, my sister was out in the back yard 'suntanning' with a couple of her friends. I was eight at the time and had only vague ideas about sex. I 'knew' (because I'd been told) that nobody was supposed to see other people naked after a certain age. I wasn't sure why, but that's what I'd been taught. So it kind of excited me to watch my sister and her friends in the yard from behind the curtains of my room. They weren't naked, but the bikini was the newest thing in swimwear and they all wore them. It was like seeing them in their undies so I watched them for a while. Even at eight, my little pencil sized cock would get stiff sometimes and it felt good to 'play with it', but nothing like that happened as I watched my sister and friends that day.
They didn't do anything but lie there, talking and giggling though, so it soon bored me. I decided to indulge one of my favorite pleasures: poking through my brothers' closet. They shared a room in those days so they also shared a closet. As one might imagine, the closet of two teenage boys (14 and 16) held some interesting items sometimes. I'd found magazines, tame by today's standards, but they showed naked tits and butts of glamorous women, so I knew they were contraband. Of course, the fact that I only found them buried under a bunch of other stuff was a big clue, too.
The day I was writing about changed my life a lot. In my delving, I uncovered a little paperback cartoon book. It was full of nudist cartoons. I'd never heard the words 'nude' or 'nudist' in my life, but I was smart enough to figure them out. The cartoons were funny, even to me, but they were chiefly based on the nudist nature of the people in them. I was amazed to learn that there were places called 'nudist colonies' where everybody went naked all the time. Ideas take deep root in young minds. From that day on I was fascinated with nudity. I made a point of looking all the nude words up in our big dictionary and became an eight year old authority on the subject.
On weekends I was always the first one awake in our house, especially after we got a television set (when I was seven!). I was eager to get up early so I could watch the cartoons before my dad rose and flipped the channel to some stupid football game -- or baseball. There didn't seem to be any other sports on TV back then except for professional wrestling on Saturday nights.
After learning about nudity I started experimenting early mornings in our back yard. We lived in New Mexico at the time and our yard was surrounded by a cinder block wall. There were poplar trees along the back wall and a couple of other trees in the middle of the grass. I found a place where I could be unobserved from any of the rear windows of our house -- one of them was my room anyway -- where I could strip off my shorts and let the early sun shine on my naked body. It felt really good and not for the first time did I wonder why it was so wrong to go naked.
Okay. Flash forward about three years. We had moved to Washington State and I'd learned a lot more about sex and enjoyed 'playing with' me growing cock a lot more. I still found time and space in which I could feel safe about stripping to my skin and simply relaxing -- even if I didn't get stiff and play around. One day I was out in this shed that was on our property. My oldest brother had made it into a kind of studio, since he was artistically inclined. But he was away in college so nobody but me ever really went out there. He had strung up my dad's old Navy hammock in the shed and the rough canvas felt strangely good on my naked skin.
One sunny day I was out there and, instead of lying in it and relaxing, I straddled it and my dick and balls fell between the edges of the hammock. It felt great! As I rocked back and forth the bottom of the canvas started rubbing my stiff cock. Suddenly I felt a throbbing and an overwhelming -- even painful -- sensation that ran through me like electricity. At first I was afraid I'd broken something, but a few minutes later everything felt normal again so I relaxed. A little while later I realized I had experienced my first ever orgasm. Since I was a young healthy male, after that I couldn't get enough of it. A month or so after that first time I started having to be ready to clean up afterward because I had started producing semen and sperm.
We moved to a place near a small town at the foot of Mt. Rainier the spring before I turned fifteen. There was a lot of logging around there. (If my mom thought the move would remove me from temptation and danger, she must have forgotten how country boys and girls act. She didn't have a clue about life in logging communities, either. But that's another story.) Since both of my parents worked in the city still, and the I-5 freeway hadn't yet been built, they had to drive 90 miles round trip every day on a four lane highway. To my mom it was worth the two hour trip each way to get me away from all the city juvenile delinquents. My dad didn't say so out loud, at least that I heard, but he was less enchanted with the drive. Twelve hours out of the day for eight hours pay didn't really make sense to him, but my mom got her way as usual.
We had stumbled on a good deal with the house we rented there. An absentee owner of 240 acres needed somebody to live in the little house there (about ten miles out of the small town where I'd be going to school that fall) and keep an eye on the property, two horses and several head of cattle he kept there. I got paid to keep the cows' water tank full. The rent was cheap, the air was clean and the land was beautiful. Most of the acreage had been left alone, so we had a lot of wooded area. I was pissed off that the few friends I had lived so far away in the city, but I liked being there, too. I had no idea how close the nearest neighbor was, but with nearly 240 acres of second growth forest around me, it didn't really matter that much once I got used to it. The whole property was fenced and the house was fenced off from the rest to keep the stock away.
It was May and everything was in bloom. I had spent so much of my life living alone in my head anyway that the freedom of being alone was, in fact, great. The weather was warm. When my parents drove down the long driveway and through the gate I was on my own. The first couple of weeks were great. I spent my days hiking over the property. I kept the cattle watered, but the horses were half wild. While they would suffer me to approach them if I had carrots or an apple or two (from our trees near the house), there was no way I could have ridden them. If one had let me mount at all, I'd have been on my ass in seconds, since I was not really a horseman. I'd ridden before, but I was not skilled. I was no cowboy.
I found a beautiful little meadow in the middle of the trees that covered most of the acreage. Part of it was a mud bog, but there was a wide stretch of mossy ground next to a fair sized stream that crossed the entire property. Well, it only took a couple of minutes before I was imitating those nudists I'd seen so long before in that cartoon book, lying naked on the moss with the warm spring sun shining down on me. I can't express how good that felt. If you've never tried it you can't understand. If you have, no explanation is necessary. I spent a lot of time there naked as spring turned toward summer, even bringing my fishing pole to catch the trout in the stream. It felt great to stand in the shallows naked, casting my lure into the current. It was all very idyllic.
I said, "the first couple of weeks were great". Then my mother's worrying streak took over. A former high school girlfriend of my sister's had found herself in a difficult situation. She also had married, but her husband was out of work that year. When my mom heard about it, she invited them to stay with us (there was a detached building that could be used as a kind of bunkhouse) and 'keep an eye on me' during the week while my parents were at work. They moved in the first week in June.
I liked Elaine (she had great tits!), but Curt, her husband, turned out to be an asshole. When my parents were around he was the picture of a good husband. When it was just the three of us, he treated her like shit. To him I was just a kid and mostly beneath his notice. If he stayed at 'the ranch' (as we called the place) during the day, he slept late and expected Elaine to wait on him. Many days he would get in their car and leave, supposedly to look for work in the city. Those afternoons he would come home, belligerent and smelling like a brewery, just before my parents got home.
One day he got the idea that he would ride one of the horses. There were a couple of bridles in the barn. Taking one of them and a rope, he managed to get the mare in tow (the stallion almost trampled him so he gave up on him) and got the bridle on her. Elaine and I watched as he vaulted onto her back. We were still watching when she ran around bucking. I was impressed that he managed to keep his seat until she stopped bucking. She was still unhappy having him on top of her, however. Riding bareback he had to hold on with his legs and feet. But he made things worse by digging his heels into her belly and yelling at her to gallop. She tried to bite him, but he swatted her with the reins.
.... There is more of this story ...